Seduce Me (32 page)

Fielding sat straighter. “Which will require a greater number of guards,” Fielding said. “They’ll likely pull the extras from
the Tower.”

“Precisely. I think he might try to break into the Tower.” Max leaned back. “The jewels housed there are worth millions.”

“Do you have friends you can trust?” Fielding asked.

Max nodded. “With my life.”

Fielding stood. “Gather them tomorrow evening, and then I suppose it will be time to storm the Tower.”

*    *    *

“What makes you so certain the Raven will have the box with him?” Esme asked.

“Now that he has it in his possession, he’ll not allow it out of his sight,” Fielding said. He pulled back the curtain and
peered out the carriage window. He and Esme, as well as a bound Waters, were parked a block away from the Tower of London,
next to a thick line of laurel bushes.

Esme nodded. It was dusk now and the moon would start rising soon, expanding to its full rounded size before the earth would
create a shadow. They had a few hours, but her heart thudded loudly in her ears, like a clock ticking off her remaining minutes.

Fielding flipped open his pocket watch. “They’ll be there soon.” He put his hand on Esme’s knee. “Do you have the pistol I
gave you?”

Reaching up under her dress, she untied the small pistol and set it in her lap. Waters’s eyes grew round. Good, it was about
time she struck fear in someone.

“Do you see how you’ve driven me to a life of crime?” she asked him in her best chastising tone. She raised both of her eyebrows.
“Had you not kidnapped me, I could have been left alone with my studies, minding my own concerns.”

Waters shrugged and tried to speak, but the gag muffled his words.

“But no,” she continued, “you dreadful men had to include me in your nefarious plans, and now look at us.” She picked up the
pistol and shook it at him. “I have a weapon, for goodness’ sake.”

Their captive’s eyes rounded even further, and he nodded fervently.

“I should hope you’ll know better than to provoke me into using it. You never know how dangerous a woman can be.” It occurred
to her then she didn’t even know if the weapon was loaded. It was on her tongue to ask Fielding, but she thought better of
it so as not to alert Waters should her gun be functionally worthless.

“Easy.” Fielding put his hand over hers and pressed the gun into her lap. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Fielding exited
their carriage and then stuck his head back inside. “And whatever you do, don’t touch him!”

Esme nodded at Fielding, then turned back to her captive. “Now listen,” she said, jabbing the gun into Waters’s knee. “You
follow our instructions, and this will all go smoothly.” At least she hoped it would. Her insides were shaking so violently
it was a wonder she could form complete sentences.

“It’s time,” Fielding said as he poked his head in. “Esme, do you have the key?”

She reached up and fingered the chain at her neck, then nodded.

The walk down the block didn’t take long, and thankfully the streets were virtually empty. Banners hung from streetlamps announcing
tomorrow’s festivities for the Golden Jubilee. Her Majesty had planned a long and winding parade through the streets of London,
and the entire city was expectant and encouraged, longing to see their queen after her extended period of mourning her husband,
Albert.

Everyone with the exception of Esme. She couldn’t afford to feel excitement about celebrations, not until she knew she would
be here to enjoy them.

Esme and Fielding huddled against the outer wall of the Tower with their captive and waited for the rest of the men to arrive.
Esme scanned the street, taking note of the scaffolding that had been built as makeshift seating for the parade. Down the
way she saw a gardener putting finishing touches on a bed of flowers laid out like a jewel-toned carpet.

And then she caught sight of Max approaching with two men behind him.

“Grey,” one man said with a smile and an outstretched hand. “It’s been a while.” Nick Callum was startlingly handsome, with
thick wavy black hair and equally dark eyes.

They shook hands. “Yes, it has been,” Fielding agreed.

The second man held his hand out to Fielding.

“Fielding,” Max said, “this is Graeme Langford.”

Graeme’s unfashionably long hair gave him a wild appearance, but his mossy green eyes softened the look. When he spoke, he
hid a hint of a Scottish brogue. “Max’s told us about your current predicament.” He looked to be a serious sort but seemed
ready to assist.

“Gentlemen,” Max said, “this is Esme Worthington.”

“Ah, the lady with that awful curse,” Nick said with a flash of a smile. “The Raven has caused problems for us in the past.
We’ve been looking for a little retribution.”

“Who exactly are we looking for?” Graeme asked. “I’m not sure I know what this Raven looks like.” His brogue thickened as
he spoke.

“He looks a lot like me,” Fielding said, his jaw tensing. “Only he’s older, and he has silver hair.” Fielding took a moment
to peer over the wall. “I suspect he’s already inside.”

“It’s obviously important that we save Her Majesty’s crowns and whatnot,” Esme said, “but we also need to get that box back
from the Raven. You can see the mischief the box has caused already. It must be retrieved and dealt with.”

“And we need Thatcher’s hand,” Fielding said.

“His hand?” Nick asked.

Fielding shook his head. “It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, we need the box and all four bands. Someone will have to watch
Waters here to make certain he behaves.”

“I’ll do it,” Graeme said. He wrapped his large hand around Waters’s throat and pinned him against the stone wall. Two open
wounds appeared along Graeme’s forearm, but he ignored them.

“Are you certain?” Fielding asked, noting the sores on Graeme’s arm.

“Had worse. You and your lass go and get that box.”

“We’ll occupy the guards after you get inside,” Max suggested.

Fielding peered over the wall again. From this angle he could see four beefeaters pacing slowly outside the Jewel House. He
looked at the courtyard surrounding the wardens, trying to find some way around them. He wished he’d paid more attention to
the rumors at school of hidden tunnels in and out of the Tower.

“How are we to get past the guards?” Esme asked.

Fielding looked back at the beefeaters and recognized one of them as another of the Raven’s men.

He crouched back down. “I have an idea.” He reached over and grabbed the hem of Esme’s dress and ripped.

“What has gotten into you?” she asked, frowning. She tried to stop him from continuing, but he shoved her hands aside.

“Trust me.” He cupped her cheek.

She allowed him to continue until he’d torn away the hem so that her dress hit her right at mid-calf.

Then he grabbed her bodice and pulled it down low.

Nick whistled.

Fielding narrowed his eyes at the man. “Keep your eyes to yourself.” Then he said to Esme, “I need for you to walk to those
men and flirt with them.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This will work, Esme. You distract them, and the three of us can sneak behind them.”

She glanced at the men around them, her features tightening. “I don’t know how to flirt,” she hissed.

“Esme, love, of course you do.” He nodded toward the bracelet. “At least one of the beefeaters over there works for the Raven.
I don’t know about the others. While you distract them, we should be able to manage the rest.”

Her insecurity about her flirtation skills was charming, but they didn’t have much time to dawdle. He gave her a pointed look,
and she marched off in the direction of the guards.

Then he motioned to the other men to follow him as he ran the length of the wall to their right. They would have to climb
over and wait for her distraction to move behind the counterfeit guards.

Fielding could hear Esme’s voice as he maneuvered himself into position. Retrieving the pistol from his waist-band, he inched
closer.

“Well, hello,” Esme said as she rounded the corner to face the beefeaters. “It’s a lovely evening.” Her hand trailed down
her neck to her cleavage. “Although I’m afraid I’m a little chilled and I left my cloak at home.”

“Come a little closer,” one of the guards told Esme. “We’ll warm you up.”

“Why don’t you come and get me,” she suggested.

Fielding smiled.

One man took her bait and stepped forward, which enabled Fielding and the others to jump over the wall and take down the guards.
One guard, the man Fielding had recognized, turned around. He took one look at Fielding and went for a whistle he had hanging
around his neck.

But Fielding leveled the gun at him and dropped the bullet into the chamber. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

The man let go of his whistle.

“How many are in there with him?” he asked.

“He’s alone. He went in alone,” the man said, his voice trembling.

“Good.” And with that Fielding slammed the butt of his gun against the man’s temple.

“We can hold them,” Max said.

“Go,” Nick urged.

“Let’s go find the Raven,” Fielding said as he held his hand out to Esme.

Before they left the courtyard, Esme turned to look at the moon, slowly climbing the night sky.

“Come, Esme.”

She nodded and together they slid into the Jewel House. They stood still a moment, allowing their eyes to adjust to the limited
light. Someone had taken the torches out of the hallway, shrouding it in near darkness. Thin shafts of light from the moon
slipped in through the narrow slits in the wall and gave them a small measure of visibility.

“Do you know where they are?” Esme whispered. “The jewels, I mean.”

“We have to get down to the lowest spot in this tower. There is a room at the end of a long hallway. They should be in there.”

Together Esme and Fielding wound down the spiral stone steps, keeping close to the wall until they came to the hallway at
the bottom. The cold stone acted as an anchor, like a shrubbery wall in a garden maze. They followed the hall to the right
and there found a relatively well-lit corridor. Two wall torches remained in their sconces.

Esme nearly screamed when they came across a guard who had met an untimely demise. There was a bullet hole in the middle of
his forehead; blood pooled beneath his lifeless body.

Fielding pulled her tighter to him and ran his hand across her back in a vain attempt to soothe her. “Shhh,” he whispered.

The familiar scent of the Raven’s tobacco filled the air. They were getting close.

Farther down the hall, glass shattered. One of the display cases, Fielding guessed. They quickened their pace. Then he held
out his hand, stopping just short of the passageway that led to the room where the jewels were stored.

“Stay behind me,” Fielding said. “And try to hold your pistol steady.”

She nodded.

Meeting her eyes, he leaned in for a quick kiss.

“Be safe,” he told her.

He held up his own pistol, and together they stepped into the room.

The Raven stood amid broken glass cases, holding a large sack already half full of the royal jewels. A large sapphire necklace
dangled from his hand. Behind him another guard lay slumped against the wall, two bullet wounds in his chest.

“You know I’m not going to let you out of here with that,” Fielding said as he pointed the gun at his uncle. They had him
trapped; there was no way out of the room except around them.

The Raven tilted his head back and laughed. “Fielding, my boy, you always did know precisely how to ruin my fun.”

“We’ll take the box now,” Fielding said, moving toward the golden artifact lying by the Raven’s boot. Along with Thatcher’s
hand. He took three steps forward, aiming his gun right at the Raven’s heart.

“What are you going to do, Fielding? Shoot me?” the Raven asked.

It was a fair question, one he’d been asking himself all day. If given the chance, would he be able to do it? Perhaps he might
have been prepared to kill the Raven, but his own father? He wasn’t certain he’d be able to pull the trigger.

The Raven took a step forward, and in doing so stepped right up to the gun so that it pressed into his shirt. “One shot, that’s
all it would take.”

“We only want the box,” Fielding repeated.

“I don’t see how that benefits me,” the Raven said. He toed the box closer to him but did not release the bag of jewels.

“It allows you to live,” Fielding said.

The Raven shrugged. “Either you’re going to shoot me or you’re not. The box is irrelevant.”

“And drop the bag,” Esme said. “You’re not leaving here with the monarchy’s treasure.”

The Raven stood there, his eyes moving from Fielding to Esme and back again. Then, suddenly, the bag fell to the floor.

“Esme, very carefully pick up the box.”

“What about Thatcher’s hand?” she asked with a wince.

He nodded. “We’ll need that too.”

She stepped over and quickly grabbed the box, which she clutched to her chest. With two fingers, she picked up Thatcher’s
hand, then coughed into her shoulder to get away from the stench.

“We’re going to walk out of here together,” Fielding said, the gun still tight against the Raven’s chest. “Esme, you walk
in front of us, back the same way we came in.”

She nodded and started walking.

They were halfway down the hall when something went wrong. The Raven jerked away from Fielding and with one move had Esme
pressed against his side, the pistol Fielding had given her held up to her throat.

Fielding’s mouth went dry. He kept his gun aimed, but he dared not shoot with Esme so close.

“I’d rather not take her with me, but I will if you insist on taking me to the authorities.” With his other hand the Raven
yanked the necklace from Esme’s neck.

“What do you want?” Fielding asked.

“To leave here. Alone.”

Esme’s green eyes pleaded with Fielding, and she grimaced when the gun bit into her tender flesh. She squirmed as the Raven
tightened his grip on her.